


The Chill of New Spring

by TheWitchsOwl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-01-15 12:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21253664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWitchsOwl/pseuds/TheWitchsOwl
Summary: How Season 8 should've gone for Jaime & BrienneA face-off with death makes one re-evaluate what is worth living for. After the Battle of the Dawn, Jaime makes a few important realizations and admits some hard truths to himself. Will there be a new Spring for him and his long-buried dreams?





	1. Part I: Jaime

**Author's Note:**

> I know there are about 1,001 of these fics, but I have to have my own version. I can at least assure you that it's a bit different and bit less death-y.

**The Chill of New Spring**

**Part 1: Jaime**

Jaime Lannister looked around in astonishment as the wights clawing at his feet collapsed around him. There seemed to be a wave effect as the wights were returned to their unanimated state, all falling one after another. After all of the noise and chaos, a deathly stillness followed disrupted only by his and his companion’s ragged panting.

_ They’re all dead, _ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t find the air or the energy. As the morning sun creeped over the top of the battlements and bathed him with the pleasant orange light of a new dawn, he could feel his senses returning to him. His legs trembled beneath him and his shins were screaming in pain from the enormous amount of effort he had exerted. He could no longer lift _ Widow’s Wail _. Where just moments before he had been raising it above his head to end a wight, he could no more than drag its tip on the ground. He couldn’t even sheath it properly. For the moment, he leaned on it to keep himself upright.

He turned to Brienne to reassure himself that she was still alive. The orange glow of the sunlight kissed her skin and shone like a fire in her eyes. It was the most beautiful vision he had ever seen. Unlike him who was barely holding himself upright, she was standing on her legs fine and was finally getting her breathing back under control. She turned towards him and he instantly saw the relief in her face. It filled him with a warmth that no wine had ever done and he managed a tired smirk.

She turned to look at Pod and squeezed his shoulder. He was similarly hunched over his knees, sucking in air. He looked wan and exhausted underneath the blood and grime, but he managed a weak smile.

“We made it,” Brienne said breathlessly. “I can’t believe we made it.”

“Yes, we made it,” Jaime replied, if only to hear his own voice. His eyes swept across the landscape, seeing a few survivors, but otherwise the dead dominated. Was there even anyone left in all of the North besides them?

Brienne began picking her way through the sea of corpses to reach the solid earth. Pod was immediately at her side. He frowned at them. Now that they had stopped moving, the heat in his blood was beginning to chill and the cold once more began to seep into his bones. Pain was also beginning to make itself known and it felt like there wasn’t a place on his body that didn’t have a bruise. It seemed to take a monumental effort to lift his leg to take a step forward and he had to bite his lip to keep the groan from the sharp twinge felt in his side. 

He set his left foot down and his leg crumpled beneath him. He fell face first among the corpses. He dropped _ Widow’s Wail _ so that he could leverage himself and set his feet properly.

“Jaime?” Brienne asked. 

“Just give me a minute. I’ll be down shortly,” he said through gritted teeth. A searing pain was beginning to make itself known in his side and leg.

“Jaime,” Brienne hobbled up to him again and he could see the wince on her face as she struggled against the carpet of corpses.

“It’s fine. It’s fine.”

She bent to grab his hand, but then gasped and stopped. Her face was pale and he followed her line of sight to see beneath the armor on his left leg that blood had soaked his trousers.

“It’s nothing,” he said and tried to smile at her, but only grimaced instead.

“Pod, grab him.”

Despite his protests, they hauled him down and laid him face first on the ground. Brienne pulled a knife and began slicing away at the armor and cloth of his trousers.

“Not everyone needs to see my ass, Brienne,” he protested. Although he preferred the ground to the corpses, the mud was freezing and only caused him to shiver more violently.

“Shut up! Maester! We need a maester,” she cried. “Pod, go find a cloth, something clean! We need to stop the bleeding. Someone, get the Maester!” 

He peered back and felt his breath catch. A gash going up his thigh was bleeding profusely; Brienne immediately attempted to put pressure on it. Upon seeing the wound, all of his exhaustion and pain rolled over him at once like a tidal wave and he couldn’t keep from groaning as he laid his head down.

“Stay awake, Jaime!”

He snorted. “Might as well ask the Gods to keep the sun from rising,” he murmured, but he fought against the weight of his drooping eyelids.

“Jaime, please. Please, stay awake! Don’t leave me,” she said and he could hear her breath hitching.

“Don’t cry for me, wench. We always knew this might be the end.”

“But we made it! You can make it! The Stranger can’t take you away now.”

She slapped him and he startled. When had he closed his eyes? “The Stranger does as he pleases. I know you know that. At least I didn’t turn into one of those things.”

He felt himself smile against the dirt. He moved a shaky hand to where she was sitting. She saw it and laced her fingers with his, feeling the warm squelch of his own blood on her fingers.

“I’m glad we could finally fight on the same side.”

“Jaime, please!”

But he was fighting a losing battle to stay awake. His vision dimmed to a pinpoint and then went dark.

*

**_.The Chill of New Spring._**

*

Jaime awoke with a gasp. He could feel his heart pounding against his ribs and the fear from an unremembered nightmare slowly trickled away. He blinked to clear the grit from his eyes and stared in confusion at the room he was in. Judging by the stag head on the wall and the bear fur rug on the floor, he was still in the blasted North. He hadn’t died after all.

He didn’t recognize the room. But then the castle had been in shambles at the end of the Battle for the Dawn, so maybe there had been a shuffle. A fire was crackling merrily in the fireplace. His armor was piled up on a chair in the far corner as though someone was afraid he’d get up and put it back on. _ Widow’s Wail _ was there as well. He settled back into the pillow with a sigh, already feeling the exhaustion washing over him, but he struggled once more to stay awake. 

He frowned around at the room. Even as loathsome of a cad as he was, he had friends, Brienne being chief among them. Where were they? He couldn’t imagine Brienne being the type to leave a comrade alone while injured. Had she been hurt more than it appeared? It took him being unable to stand to start feeling his injuries. His breathing became short and ragged as his imagination began floating the worse case scenarios before his eyes.

She would want to know he was alive. He wouldn’t soon forget the fear, panic, and agony in Brienne’s voice as she called his name. Just thinking about it caused a tug on his heart. He hoped to never hear her like that again.

Jaime looked over and saw the shutters drawn on the window, but they were cracked open just enough for him to see a stripe of midday light shining through. How long had he been out? He got the feeling it was for much longer than a few hours.

He reached for his leg with his left hand and breathed a sigh of relief to still feel it whole and not a stump. His fingers brushed past what he assumed must be crude stitches to keep the skin together. Otherwise he was left in a clean linen shirt and that was all. 

His earlier panic thinking about worst case scenarios had taken a toll on him as he struggled to keep his eyes open again. _ I can see her when next I wake, _ he thought. _ I better. _ As much as he hated being constrained to a bed, he lacked the energy to make even a token effort. When he settled back into the pillow, he felt himself drift away again. 

Jaime awoke again when the door opened. He felt his heart soaring as he glanced over, but it plummeted at the exhausted and unruly countenance of his brother. As usual, he had a wine flask in hand.

“Ah. It’s good to see you’re awake brother,” Tyrion said. He did a double take and gave him a wry smile, “Don’t look so disappointed to see me.”

“I’m not,” Jaime replied. “It’s good to see you’re alive.”

“Not half as good as seeing Ser Brienne though I’m sure,” Tyrion shot back. His humor faded quickly and was replaced by a grim look as he came to take the seat next to his bed.

Jaime shifted at how dark and void Tyrion appeared. “Did someone die? Someone important, I mean?”

“Do you know the first thing I heard coming out of the crypts after the battle?” Tyrion asked.

Jaime sighed and pinched his eyes shut.

“Ser Brienne was screaming your name in such distress, I thought you were dead. Never have I felt so terrified in my life. It was a near thing. You’re lucky the wight missed your artery or we’d be set to burn you with the rest of the dead tomorrow.”

“I thought I was dying,” Jaime admitted.

“I can’t pretend to know what the battle was like. We had our own troubles in the crypts when the Stark dead broke out of their tombs”—Jaime couldn’t keep the alarm from his face, but Tyrion didn’t seem to notice it—“but it was nothing like facing a sea of dead. Thankfully, Lady Lyanna Mormont proved her mettle by killing much of the Stark ancestry. Apart from you, many men and women collapsed in exhaustion after the battle. We made little headway into clearing out the bodies or even making clean the many rooms. The first day was a day of rest, for the soldiers at any rate. The Maester of Winterfell and Samwell Tarly worked their fingers to the bone to stitch up you and countless others.”

Tyrion finally grabbed a goblet and began pouring his wine. He also poured a little into a second goblet for Jaime. It took a bit of effort, but Jaime was finally sitting up in bed so that he could drink. It was a poor quality wine, but Jaime wasn’t sure he had ever tasted anything more flavorful in his life and he sighed in contentment. After a time of sipping, he noticed that Tyrion was staring at him in a scrutinizing way that made him uncomfortable.

“What happened? The Night King is dead then?”

“Oh yes. Theon and his men perished holding the Night King off, but Lady Arya was there to save the day before the Night King could kill Bran Stark. It was a close one.”

Jaime stared at him. “I never even _ saw _ the Night King. Why wouldn’t there be more men in the godswood? If Bran Stark is the most important, then shouldn’t we have had more than a score of men protecting him?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure if having a thousand men around Bran Stark would have made a difference. The flood of wights carved the necessary path through everyone and his dragon kept Jon Snow occupied. It seemed an ambush was the only method.”

Jaime frowned tersely as he puzzled over the situation, distubed that they had apparently been a hair’s breadth from defeat and he had been ignorant of it. He didn’t like his train of thoughts and switched the subject, “How long have I been out?”

“Three days. Ser Brienne, Podrick, and I checked on you periodically but you were always asleep.”

“Where is Ser Brienne? And Podrick?” 

The tacked on name made Tyrion’s lips curl in amusement. “They’re taking their rest. Ser Brienne checked in on you at lunch. She hasn’t wanted to leave your side, but duty demands it. It’s been hell trying to make Winterfell suitable for the living once more.”

Tyrion’s voice was quickly becoming a droning buzz in Jaime’s ears and he felt his attention drifting. Judging by the light outside and the information Tyrion gave, it was likely dinner time. Was Brienne resting or was she eating? He had to imagine it was only a matter of time before he saw her again.

The last image he had of her, she was in tears and panicking, clearly believing that he was dying. They both thought he’d been dying. The fear and desperation in her tore at him as he thought of it even now. Deep down, some small part of him had been glad to see it; she cared for him. No one, not even Cersei, had any such depth of emotion for his wellbeing. She knew he had made it at least, but he wanted to ease her fears by showing how well and truly alive he was.

“Jaime!”

“Hmm?” He turned to Tyrion who was looking at him with irritation. 

“You haven’t listened to a word I said!”

“Was it important?”

Tyrion heaved an exasperated sigh. “I wanted to ask what you intend to do about Ser Brienne.”

Jaime narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean by that?”

“Your first reaction upon seeing me was to ask after her. The night you knighted her, I have never seen those expressions on your face or such chivalrous behavior from you, _ ever _ . Towards _ anyone _. Not even Cersei.”

Jaime’s face became tight at the mention of their sister’s name.

“I can’t pretend to know what brought the both of you to this point, but a blind man could recognize the feelings you have for her. Are you going to do something about them?”

Jaime moved his eyes to look at the fire burning merrily. A whole host of excuses was on his lips about how he and Brienne could never be, but he bit them off immediately. He was never known to be altruistic and it would be pointless to start now. Nearly dying three days prior threw into sharp relief that he never wanted to be separated from her again. Even as he was dying, there had been a warmth of happiness blossoming in his chest that he and Brienne were finally able to be allies.

Nothing else had mattered in that moment, except her. Not even that he was likely to die a hero and finally prove he had a shred of honor in his battered old body, something that he had longed for his whole life. The only thing that had mattered in that moment was that he was going to be separated from Brienne once more, but it would be permanent.

She didn’t deserve him. He was callous, had moments of cruelty—to her even—and was self-absorbed, but he didn’t want to live one more moment without her. She was the knight he had always dreamed of being and the idea of waking up next to her sent a thrill through him. Then perhaps one day he could see her ocean blue eyes staring up at him from the face of their child. For much of his life, the other side of his bed had been cold. Not even Cersei stayed after their conjoining for fear of being discovered. The one morning he’d woken up with her was the rarity and she still hadn’t stayed abed for long. For that fleeting moment, he felt like they were finally of the same mind and could be together as they were meant to be. But then Cersei had ripped away the facade to show him he was merely a means to an end in her ongoing bid to maintain power.

Cersei’s words had eaten away at him the entire journey North. He eventually had to banish them from his mind and think only of Brienne. Would she be happy to see him? Would she want him dead like everyone else in the North when he failed to show up with the promised army? But of course she hadn’t. Brienne had stood by him and vouched for him in the face of Queen Daenerys who rightfully hated his guts for murdering her father. He hadn’t been thrilled to see her imperiling herself on his behalf, but he was surprised and gladdened to see that she had earned a measure of respect from multiple angles. 

It was no less than she deserved and it should have made her beyond his reach. But damn the Gods for making him selfish, because he didn’t care that he shouldn’t covet someone who managed to remain so untainted by the darkness and the grit in the world.

“Perhaps I should wait until I’m healed?” Jaime said, absentmindedly scratching his beard.

“What does that matter?” Tyrion asked, downing the rest of the goblet of wine. “From what I heard, she saw you covered in your own piss and shit suffering from fevered delirium after losing your hand. You’re cleaner now than you were then, though you should probably have a bath. We didn’t have time to bathe you, we just cleaned your face and the wound.”

Jaime scowled at him.

“When next you see her, tell her,” Tyrion commanded. “It’s late. I haven’t eaten yet and you probably should too. I’ll go get us the stew and then arrange a bath for you later. Does that sound acceptable?”

“Fine,” Jaime muttered, though his mind was once more several doors down where Brienne was staying.

*

**_.The Chill of New Spring._**

*

_ Thunk, thunk. _

Jaime stirred awake at the polite knocking on his door. After eating and bathing, he had returned to bed exhausted. Tyrion had enlisted Podrick to help get him clean since the maester had cautioned them about getting the stitches wet. He hadn’t particularly cared for Pod to see him in such a vulnerable state, but there was no one else and the lad was trustworthy. He was even certain he wouldn’t go running off to Brienne.

It had been a relief to scrub off the last of the grit and blood from the battle. He was a bit disappointed that Brienne never managed to drop by at any point, but Pod had assured him that she had spent the day hauling dead and had retired.

He heard the latch give and the door creak. He turned over, blinking blearily. “Brienne, is that you?” He said in a gruff voice. He blinked as he struggled to fully awaken.

The door pushed open wider to reveal Brienne, dressed in her armor, seemingly fit for battle. “Ser Jaime, how are you feeling?” She asked in a quiet voice. She slipped into the room, and then hesitated before leaving the door open a hair. She stood awkwardly next to his bed and seemed anxious. 

He frowned at her. “Are you well? What happened to your eye?” 

“Mostly bruises, Ser Jaime. It took a bit for a few to set in, but I am well enough.”

Jaime managed to get up into a sitting position and gave her a crooked smile. Tyrion had—hypocritically, Jaime thought—tamed his beard for him. He preferred the cleaner look but insisted he could do it himself. Tyrion had chastised him for being a child while he was injured. The injury on his leg went from the back of his thigh to the knee. It looked ugly from the crudely done stitching, but there was no redness to suggest infection.

He studied her form and was pleased to see she didn’t appear to have any injuries she was trying to hide from him. “I’m gladdened to see you made out better than I did.” 

She smiled weakly, but it fell just as quickly. 

Jaime cocked his in confusion. “Are you alright? You’re acting strange. We won! You fought in your first real war and you were victorious!”

“It’s simply difficult. There were a lot of deaths. We’ve been mourning, not celebrating. The funeral for everyone who perished will be conducted today.”

“I should be there,” Jaime said instantly.

“Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t walk on that leg.” Brienne seemed to liven up and she frowned sternly at him.

“We have to honor the dead. I’m awake, my leg is healing. It’ll be fine.”

“Jaime, please, the less I have to worry about you the better.”

“Ah, you dropped the ‘ser,’ finally.” She blushed for some reason and turned her head to avoid looking him in the eye. “I want to be out there for the funeral.”

She drew her mouth into a frown and her eyes became as hard as diamonds. “Then you will do everything I say and you won’t complain. About anything. I will see about finding you a cane.”

Jaime couldn’t hide his grimace but he nodded.

He was allowed to break his fast in peace, but afterwards Pod was sent in to help him dress. He had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the boy, since he was frustrated at being even more helpless. Once dressed, he was able to hobble around. A crude walking stick that appeared to be a dead branch picked up in the godswood was provided for him. Someone had the wherewithal to put him in a room on the ground floor and he didn’t think he could be more grateful. He was among the last to join the mourners owing to his slowness as he stumped across the grounds with Brienne and Pod on either side of him. There were still plenty of disgruntled looks, but he thought he might have caught approval from both Lady Sansa and Lady Lyanna.

They would probably be less pleased if they knew he barely paid the funeral any attention. Thankfully, no one he considered an ally had ended up among the dead, so his eyes kept drifting towards Brienne. She would turn to look at him occasionally and give him a watery smile. When she was focused on the ceremony, he could see the sadness in her eyes and her mouth would twitch, but she appeared resolute all the same. He leaned the cane against his leg and laced his fingers with hers once more, ignoring the pain. 

She squeezed his hand and smiled at him before turning back to listen to Jon Snow’s speech.

Once the numerous pyres were lit, Jaime was eager to steer Brienne back inside. He was used to the dead being buried and was not interested in inhaling the disturbing smell of burning flesh. He regretted it almost as soon as they entered the courtyard, because Brienne said, “Back to bed with you!”

“Brienne, please. I don’t have to keep to bed. I can walk.”

“I said no complaining!”

“Your rule was not to complain at the funeral.” His protestations seemed ridiculous as he struggled to hobble across the yard. He thought he heard derisive snickers around him, but he focused on Brienne and walking. He was still awake and alert enough that back abed was the last place he wanted to be.

“I said no complaining period. Back to bed with you.”

“It’s just a scratch.”

The look she gave him was incredulous. “A gouge!”

“Now you’re exaggerating.”

She sighed in exasperation.

“Come! Let’s go to the godswood.”

It wasn’t until they reached the godswood that he heard the crunching of snow behind him and realized that Podrick was still trailing Brienne like a lost puppy. 

“Podrick, didn’t you have somewhere else you needed to be?”

He frowned at Jaime and opened his mouth to deny, but changed his mind at Jaime’s glare. “Now that I think about it, I promised to haul stone.”

“That’s a good lad,” Jaime muttered as the man turned tail and fled. He was also grateful that Bran Stark wasn’t here for once.

Brienne snorted. “You could’ve just asked him to leave.”

“The boy needs to know his place.”

“That ‘boy’ earned a knighthood fighting in the Battle for the Dawn.”

“Did he now?” 

“Yes. I intend on knighting him,” Brienne said. Her smile was genuine and there was a rosy glow to her cheeks. A far off look in her eye suggested she was thinking back to her own knighting ceremony.

Jaime smiled and he thought back on it too. He remembered her fear and her reverence all too clearly as she stared up at him from where she was kneeling. He’d nearly fumbled _ Widow’s Wail _ because he was certain he would ruin the vows. Yet the words flowed from him as if he had spoken them a hundred times before: 

_ “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just. In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent. Arise, Ser Brienne of Tarth, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms.” _

Then she had risen and the trust and hope that shone in her eyes had taken him aback. 

“You looked so beautiful that night,” Jaime whispered.

“What?” Brienne was a few feet ahead of him and turned back in puzzlement.

He froze. Lost in the moment, he hadn’t realized he said the words aloud, but he was no coward. He stepped closer to her, keeping eye contact, and repeated, “I said, you looked so beautiful that night.”

“We both know I’m not beautiful. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tease,” she said and she turned away with a blush. There was a wavering to her voice that made it sound like she was ready to break.

“I’m not teasing,” Jaime insisted. “You are beautiful. You know another time you looked beautiful? After the battle. The light of the sun on your face at the moment you realized we had won was enough to steal my breath away. You were hurt, you were exhausted, but you were triumphant.”

“Jaime…” Her tone was a warning. She had turned away and kept her back to him.

He stumbled around so that he was back in her line of sight, but she turned her eyes to the ground.

“I’m not afraid of death. When I thought I was dying, I was glad you were with me. Now that I know I have more time, I realized I didn’t want to risk spending another minute without you by my side. Forget ally, I want to be your partner.”

She stared at him, her mouth slightly open and her eyes narrowed.

“Will you marry me?” He asked.

There was silence as the words hung in the air like their breaths in the frosty chill of the North.

Finally, Brienne said, “But you love your sister.”

“To hell with my sister,” Jaime snarled. He hadn’t meant for it to come out quite so aggressively, but Cersei no longer inspired feelings of love. She had wanted him dead! It was only by good fortune that he had managed to outwit the fools she had sent in pursuit of him when he began his journey north. He drew in a shuddering breath and tried to reign in the anger he felt at thoughts of his twin. “I haven’t really loved her like that for some time. We’re both hateful people; I thought she was the only one I deserved and that she was the only one who could love me. I didn’t want to face the truth. She brought that to the fore when she threatened to have the Mountain remove my head. In our last few months together, she belittled and undermined me at every turn, accusing me of treason after I arranged the meeting at the Dragon Pit with Tyrion. I should’ve known she’d never keep her promise.”

Brienne gasped and stared at him pityingly.

“Don’t. It was my foolishness and folly. I’m done with her. I came North to fight, yes, but I really came North for _ you _. You would honor me more than you have already, if you’d be my lady.”

It concerned him that Brienne looked like a rabbit cornered by a fox. She seemed to be searching for a way out and her breathing was ragged. “I—I don’t—um—I—Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Jaime replied lightly, though he could feel his heart pounding like he was in another battle. “I’ll be in my room.”


	2. Part II: Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since you've seen this one, hasn't it? I apologize to my readers that it took so long to get Part 2 out! I said it was going to be a 2-parter fic, but once I'd written Part II, I realized I couldn't fit everything I had wanted into the second part. So I made the executive decision to make it 3 parts instead of just 2. My posting part 2 means that Part 3 is done. I will post the last part next Saturday. =)
> 
> Thank you so much for your patience, your comments, your Kudos, and for reading. It means a lot! Enjoy!

**Part II: Brienne**

Brienne does not run away. Once she had become a warrior, fleeing anything went against the very grain of her being. Yet she was crunching through the snow to reach the edge of the godswood as quickly as she could through the ankle-deep snow. Jaime was injured, so it was easy to disappear from his sight. She would thank the Seven that he had agreed to give her space.

Once out of the biting cold, she glanced around. She hoped no one would see the panic that was building inside her. Her eyes were wide like a frightened deer and her breath was leaving her in quick pants.  _ Alone. I need to be alone, _ she thought and headed up the stairs towards the ramparts. Jaime would not be able to follow her up there. Not that she expected him to. 

She trusted him. She had given her heart to him  _ years _ ago, whether he knew it then or not, and she had done it with the knowledge that her feelings would never be returned. Or so she had thought. When had this changed? Was it strictly because Cersei had threatened to kill him so he simply fled to the next woman?

But she was ugly! A great big lump of a woman with shoulders as broad as a man and an ugly face. Even handless, even when covered in the grime and gore of the undead, Jaime was a thing of beauty. She admired the way the sun seemed to cause his golden hair to glow and she blushed at that mischievous smirk he would bestow upon her. Despite losing the swordhand that had defined him for most of his life, he had still managed to hold his own and save her life multiple times during the Battle for the Dawn. Yet he had nearly paid the ultimate price and she had not been ready for it.

Brienne felt like she had been slapped by the stinging cold and she blinked dazedly before walking out to the middle of the ramparts to overlook the castle. It was strangely one of the few things that had been left undamaged in the battle. A cloud of smoke from the funeral pyres drifted away from the castle, for which she was grateful. The dragons were hunched nearby, having curled up against the cold. The sun was beginning to set, yet the castle was a hive of activity as she saw folks running to and fro preparing for the victory feast. It had been decided that once the fallen were laid to rest that the living would finally celebrate. 

She was not one for feasts, since they never ended well for her, but she had been looking forward to this one for once. The people of the North respected her and Jaime would be there. Her throat clenched again at how close he had come to being on the pyres instead, but she swallowed and willed the feeling away. However, she now dreaded the celebration because she would see Jaime. She wasn’t ready to see him yet.

_ He doesn’t love me. He can’t love me, _ she told herself.  _ Jaime’s just feeling victorious because he survived. He doesn’t mean it. In the morning he’ll wake up and tell you he was only joking. No one could love you. _ Quite suddenly Septa Roelle was hissing at her that she would never be able to find love or a match with her looks and habits. Since her horrible encounter at Renly’s camp where the other knights were placing bets on her maidenhood, she had been forced to reconcile that she would only ever be an old maid. After Renly’s death, Lady Catelyn had given her purpose with her oath. Jaime had given her purpose by gifting her armor and  _ Oathkeeper _ , and now Lady Sansa gave her purpose by needing her protection. Jaime had granted her greatest desire of knighthood and she would now use that to be the Stark’s sworn shield. What more did she need?

_ Tarth _ . The name of her home rose up to the fore of her mind and a wave of homesickness seized her that she hadn’t felt since she’d looked out over the waters of Blackwater Bay in Tarth’s direction. The last time she had seen her father, he had been smiling kindly at her, a few gray hairs in his beard. He had insisted on a hug before she had departed. When she had left, she gave Tarth one last look and determined to make peace with herself that she might never see her island again. She wasn’t as successful at it as she had intended, but she was able to put it to the back of her mind for the most part. The immediacy of the danger that she was frequently in assisted in that.

How was her father now? Had he gone completely gray from worrying for her? She hadn’t even so much as sent a raven at any point in time to let him know that she was safe. She needed to make amends.  _ What would he think if I told him there were two men vying for me? _ She didn’t even believe it herself. She was certain Tormund was a fluke and she didn’t enjoy the way he drooled over her like a dog. But now Jaime had stepped up, admitted his feelings—without prompting—and immediately asked for her hand in marriage. Even with the realm depleted of nobility, there had to be a hundred ladies that were a better match than her. The future lord of Casterly Rock did not wed the lady of a minor lord on an island with barely an army to its name. And she was certain that even given his reputation for incest that there would be better matches. And then there was his sister.

Yet Cersei had refused to send her army north to aid in the defeat of the Long Night, despite agreeing to that term. Queen Daenerys and her dragons were already turning their gaze south. Queen Cersei was in imminent peril. What would Jaime do? Was he willing to accept that his sister was in the line of dragons’ fire?

_ I am not to understand their relationship and I won’t, _ Brienne thought to herself firmly. She trusted Jaime. He had proven himself honorable and even when he couldn’t bring his army, he had ridden North anyway to keep his own word. Surely, he would not ask her to marry him and then ride back to his sister, would he?

His sister had tried to kill him after all. She couldn’t miss the pain on his face as he had described it. Queen Cersei had tried to kill her other brother Tyrion as well. Brienne’s own brother Galladon had been dead nearly fifteen years and deep down hidden in her heart is the ache of his missing presence. She would give anything to have one last smile from her brother. She couldn’t fathom wanting him dead or any of her other long deceased siblings. Her memory of Galladon had long faded until she could only see his flaxen hair and smiling blue eyes that had crinkled just like their father’s. Cersei was truly a monster for wanting her own flesh and blood dead; Brienne felt fortunate that she had managed to escape the Red Keep alive.

Jaime was also apparently fortunate to have fled when he had the chance. Brienne’s lips quirked at the thought of Jaime scoffing at her for characterizing his journey to the North as ‘fleeing.’ Her smile fell once more at the conundrum she was facing.

Now that the dead had been dealt with, Queen Daenerys and Jon Snow were going to turn their attention to uprooting Cersei. The army would march south. Would Jaime go with them? Did he have an obligation to see his sister removed and likely executed? Would he be able to stomach assisting in the death of his sister? Did that go against the very spirit of the Seven? Kinslaying was considered the most heinous crime, so would participating in the battle that would end his sister mark him as a kinslayer? Maybe the implication would be enough to forswear his obligation to Queen Daenerys.

Once Cersei was dispatched, Brienne’s reasons for staying in the North would disappear. There were no more threats to be guarded against. She needed to return to Tarth. She was her father’s only heir and he didn’t even know if she was alive or not.  _ Tomorrow, _ she ordered herself.  _ Tomorrow, you will send a letter. _

But what would she  _ say _ in her letter? Should she mention the betrothal? Should she say she accepted it or rejected it? She knew she had to decide soon. But what to do? Her heart beat rapidly with a yearning ache to accept. Jaime would treat her right. He would respect her desire to continue fighting even while married, but would he treat her like a woman?

A warmth flooded her cheeks and she knew her face was blood red as she recalled the memory of Jaime’s naked body in the tubs at Harrenhal. How many times had she thought back to his powerful legs, his robust chest, that perfect round ass, and imagined his cock inside her? Even after a year imprisonment, he had appeared gloriously perfect with an unworldly beauty. On the coldest of nights in Winterfell, she imagined him fucking her in the tub in the hopes it would relieve the ache between her legs, but it only seemed to cause her desire for him to increase.

She shifted uncomfortably as the screeching remnants of Septa Roelle’s words rang out from the depths of her memories:  _ “Who could love a great beast like you? You’ll die a maid, a spinster. Only whores engage with men unmarried and no man would sleep with you, not even for free. Be a good girl and the Seven may smile upon you. That means no bad thoughts! A lady doesn’t find pleasure in her marital duty, only children. There can be none when you’re alone.” _

Brienne thanked the Seven everyday for separating her from that witch. Even as much as she resented Septa Roelle’s harsh words, there had been a ring of truth to them like the peal of a bell. She was too ugly to find love and so she never would. Thrice she had been betrothed and her second betrothed, Ronnet Connington, the son of a landed knight who needed a claim of land, had told her she was too ugly to marry even for him. It was because of his words that she had become determined to fight against her betrothals and was able to fend the last one off. 

What of Jaime? Should she challenge him to a swordfight with her hand in marriage as the prize? It wasn’t fair. She would sweep him. She had swept him in a spar or two before the Long Night had arrived. He had taken the tumbles into the snow graciously, but it was all too clear that her skill was beyond him. Brienne could let him win, but then she would never forgive herself for not giving her all; she had a feeling Jaime would never forgive her either. 

As much as her heart cried to accept his declaration of love and her body yearned for his touch, a voice whispered to her—that sounded suspiciously like her Septa—that he would abandon her in an instant once whatever delusion he had allowed himself to believe would fall away. He would head back to Cersei and she would be in an even worse position than she was now. She wasn’t certain she was strong enough to weather such a savage blow.

Her heart refused to accept that answer and the pain increased until it was ready to swallow her whole.

“Ser?”

Brienne nearly sighed in relief to hear Pod’s bewildered voice. 

“What are you doing up here? The celebration is starting. Lady Sansa was wondering why you weren’t present at the feast.”

She turned to him. He didn’t have a torch but there was still light enough yet to see the polite concern on his face. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come and instead she turned to look out across the castle again.

She heard the soft crunch of his steps in the snow as he approached her, but she dared not face him.

“Ser, if I may...is it something Ser Jaime said? Did he hurt you?”

An annoyance flickered at the assumption that Jaime must have caused her grief. Brienne found herself looking Pod sternly in the eye and saying, “He asked me to marry him.” She wanted to see his reaction.

Pod’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in surprise, but then it closed and she thought she saw an uncanny awareness in his eyes. “Well, that explains why he wanted me gone earlier,” he replied plainly. “I wondered.”

“Wondered what?” Brienne asked. 

Her squire hesitated. His eyes were turned to the ground and he went through a variety of facial expressions, before bashfully meeting her eye and said, “I remember...Ser Bronn and I spoke at the encampment at Riverrun. You remember him?”

She drew her mouth into a disappointed frown.  _ How could I forget? _ By virtue of wanting to serve wholly with honor, she hated the very idea of mercenaries. A mercenary is what cost Jaime his hand so it seemed unfathomable to her that he would consort with yet another one, but both of the Lannister brothers had seemed oddly fond of him. “What about him?”

“Beggin’ your pardon, Ser, but...he said something not fit for polite company.”

“Of course he did,” Brienne replied tartly. But the meaning struck her and she turned narrowed eyes on Pod, “He said something about me and Jaime?”

“Aye, Ser.” 

She could tell by the way his mouth was closed in a tight snare that he wouldn’t say another word without permission. “Very well. What did he say? Tell it to me plainly.”

“Ser Bronn, well—he said...he suggested that you and Ser Jaime were fucking in his tent.”

Brienne felt her shoulders hunch. A powerful heat was emanating from her cheeks,but this time from anger rather than desire. “What did you say?”

“N-nothing, Ser. I didn’t know what to say.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“He said that Ser Jaime would fuck you.”

_ I will kill that sellsword, _ she thought hotly. No doubt he was among those who had spread the rumors of her being Jaime Lannister’s whore in the Keep.

“I think he loves you, Ser.”

Pod’s words pierced her thoughts and she stared at him.

“Who?”

“Ser Jaime.”

“Why do you think that?”

“When he knighted you, Ser. He looked almost as happy as you. He was...he was awed…?” Pod trailed off lamely. He dipped his head and rubbed the back of his neck.

Brienne sighed. “Come, let’s go to the feast.”

“Wait, my Lady—Ser. Wait, Ser.” 

She turned in exasperation, already exhausted of his conversation and her thoughts that whirled in an endless circle around her head.

“There’s more. The day we met. I don’t-didn’t know him well, I just knew he was saving my life when he gave me to you. We weren’t on good terms, but I could tell what you meant to him just by looking at him—when we were riding away.”

“How was he looking at me?” Brienne whispered. She had distinctly recalled turning around to meet his eyes. She had seen a promise in his eyes that he would do right by their oath.  _ That was all _ .

“I-I thought he looked like a man drowning who was watching the one thing that could save him drift away.”

Brienne turned sharply to him. Pod had grown up enough that he no longer cowered under her glares, but she thought she saw him gulp. “We were both looking back at him. How were you able to determine that?”

“I have done right by you, yes?”

She let out her breath in a discomfiting sigh and smiled weakly at him. “Yes, you have Pod. You’ve done very well.”

“Then believe me, Ser. He gave you a Valyrian steel sword. Do you know how long the Lannisters have been seeking a Valyrian steel sword? They had one a long time ago. It went missing when King of the Rock Tommen Lannister II sailed to Valyria with it. Jaime lost an uncle who went in search of it. Lord Tywin broke the Stark sword  _ Ice _ in two so that the Lannister and the Baratheon line could each have one. Lord Tywin gave it to him for the sake of House Lannister. And then he gave it to you. A man like him—he wouldn’t do that for just anyone.”

Brienne stared at him and her heart wanted to believe it was true, but the doubt still lingered. Finally, she asked, “D-do you t-think he would return to his sister?”

Pod’s earnest look faded away. He was back to shuffling and staring at his feet. After some time of opening and closing his mouth like a landed fish, he whispered, “I don’t know, Ser.”

Her breath released in a shudder. Her fears felt vindicated. Not even Pod, who was so sure that Jaime loved her could determine if it was enough to keep him by her side.

“Ask him,” Pod said.

“I did. He told me that he and Cersei were done. That she tried to kill him,” Brienne whispered back.

“Do you trust him, Ser?”

“Wha-? Of course I do.”

“Then you have to trust his answer,” Pod replied as if it was that simple.

Brienne gaped at him. “But he loves his sister!”

“Nothing is without risk, Ser.” The silence that followed was deafening as Brienne felt her thoughts pick up like the winds of a hurricane about to make landfall. “When did he want an answer by?”

“He didn’t say,” she replied.

“He wasn’t at the feast when I left. Mayhap he’s not there. Mayhap he is. Join the celebration. Sleep on it,” Pod said.

_ I will get no sleep tonight, _ Brienne thought, but she nodded and began following Pod back to the main hall.

The rumble of voices in the dining area grew to a steady roar until it sounded like a raging river to her ears. She stopped at the entrance where no one could quite see her yet, then took a deep breath and walked in, looking for Jaime. He wasn’t there. His brother, Tyrion, was seated next to Queen Daenerys and Lord Varys was on his other side. The dwarf was laughing and drinking merrily in the absence of his brother, which she thought strange. 

The next person she noticed was Tormund and she watched his eyes grow in excitement upon seeing her enter. She inwardly groaned.  _ I should’ve just gone to my room. Only Tormund would’ve missed me, _ she thought. But she allowed Podrick to lead her to a table. She obediently sat on the bench as he fetched them drinks.

Once the tankard was set down in front of her, she stared into it, watching the way her reflection bent and wavered on the surface of the wine. For a celebratory feast, she did not look happy.

“Have a drink, Ser. You’ll feel better.” Pod held up his tankard for a toast. “For life,” he said quietly.

Brienne bit back the sigh that had been building up in her and fixed a small smile on her face. “For life,” she agreed and took a gulp. She closed her eyes as she felt the wine fill her belly. She would need food if she wanted to keep her wits about her, so she started helping herself to fresh baked rolls and platters of chicken and potatoes laid out on the tables. They’d been eating a gritty stew morning, noon, and night for weeks, so the chicken was a wonderful departure.

Pod only prodded her into a minimal amount of conversation, but otherwise let her be. She tried to keep her thoughts from Jaime and instead allowed her eyes to rove around the room as she simply took in all of the merry and happy people.

“Good evening, Ser Brienne! I couldn’t help but notice that you appear to be the lone glum face among the crowd. Do you mind a little prying?”

Brienne pinched her eyes closed and schooled her face so that Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister couldn’t see her frustration. When she turned to him, she said, “Good evening, Lord Tyrion. I am merely tired.”

“Tired of people prying?” Tyrion asked with a knowing smile.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “He told you?”

“He didn’t need to tell me. It was all over his face when he declined my invitation to tonight’s feast. I asked him the whys of it and he said, ‘No one will want to see me there tonight.’ Curious, since you were holding hands only this morning.”

“You knew.” She pursed her lips in anger and wanted to curse herself. “Did you put him up to this?”

“I did nothing. He decided all on his own what he wanted for his future. He chose you.”

Brienne stared into her cup once more, the frustration bubbling inside of her. 

“Ser Brienne?”

She turned to glare at him. 

“I am a dwarf. We’re all bastards to our fathers even when legitimate. I know what it’s like to be hated. Even in my own family I was called ‘the little beast’ and ‘demon monkey.’ Only whores will lay with me.” She blushed at his words. He ignored her embarrassment and pointed at his face. “This doesn’t inspire love. Do you know the only one who never called me names? Always smiled at me and loved me regardless? Jaime. He knows how to look past the outside to what’s inside. And really, Ser, you’re not ugly. You have my brother and that wildling vying for your attention. A truly ugly lady wouldn’t have anyone.”

“I was that ugly lady for the longest time. I had no one,” Brienne whispered.

“Whoever those sods are that hurt you should be banished from your memory. They’re gone. You’re a hero of the Long Night, a hero of the North, and the first lady to become a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. You’ve accomplished more than those screeching cocktwisters could ever hope to. They are beneath your notice and you should treat them as such,” Tyrion declared pinning her with a determined look.

When she continued to sit there, Tyrion replied, “My brother has notoriously poor judgment, but the first good thing he ever fell in love with was you. I have never seen him look so awestruck and happy as he did when he knighted you. He was almost as happy about it as you were.”

Everyone kept bringing up the knighting ceremony. Granted, it was Tyrion, his brother, who was vouching for him; he was not an unbiased source, but Pod too felt certain Jaime loved her. Seven Hells, that crude sellsword knight even thought Jaime loved her. 

Brienne drained her tankard and slammed it onto the table. It was time to get to the bottom of this. She stood up from her place at the bench and then her knees buckled as a weighty hand slapped her on the shoulder. “SER BRIENNE,” Tormund shouted in her ear. “‘Tis a good night to be alive! The army of the dead has been defeated! We’re heroes! Sit down, have a drink! Be merry! Mayhap we’ll find a cozy spot and—”

THUNK!

Tormund reeled, falling back into the men seated at the next table. The beer left in his tankard splashed everyone. There was a groan from the men around and then silence fell as Brienne stood over him, her fists clenched and her face red with rage.

“How many times do I have to tell you to leave me alone?! I am not interested! Leave me be,” Brienne shouted. She panted heavily and was growing more livid by the moment as Tormund’s eyes shined up at her, not in fear but in excitement. When she looked up, all eyes were on her; there was a mixture of fear and concern. She straightened up and quickly strode away, her face heated once more in embarrassment. 

Behind her, she heard Jon Snow yell in a commanding tone, “TORMUND!” It sounded like the wildling had crossed one line too far and he was being set to rights. She hoped that was the case.

Once out of the hall, she stopped to regain her breath and rein in her temper. Her emotions were all over the place and she felt like she was being pitched wildly to and fro on a ship in a hurricane. She rubbed her forehead and then remembered where she had been going to begin with.

Brienne pounded on the door. “Jaime, open up.” It was more hostile than she had planned and she took a moment and said more slowly, “We need to talk.”

The handle turned and Jaime poked his head out. There seemed to be a haze of sleep in his eyes, but he was aware enough to look both morose and wary. “Ser Brienne, to what do I owe this pleasure?”

“I need to know if you’ll go back to your sister,” Brienne said and then winced. Did she have to put it so bluntly?

He pulled the door open wider and considered her a moment. He drew in a shuddering breath and explained, “Brienne, I want to be with you. Cersei is shadows and darkness. Always has been, but it wasn’t a darkness she was alone in creating. No, our father had a helping hand in that. My father only believed in the status of knighthood as a means of perfecting his heir. He didn’t care about the vows I swore to become one.”

“You know the story. I killed the king to save everyone in the city. No one wanted an explanation, they just wanted a villain. Cersei appeared to be the only one who loved me and that’s all that mattered,” he replied with a shrug. He gave her a weak smile and there was guilt and sadness in his eyes. “You showed me a different way. When I thought that I was stuck being the Smiling Knight, you proved to me that I could shed that identity and become the knight I always wanted to be. But I was only able to do it because of you.”

“It took me time to recognize it, but I realized that I was happier in your presence. Lighter. The weight of expectation fell away and I found that I could merely exist and be considered kindly. Even after all of our years apart and the fact that you were the one who ultimately fulfilled the vow, you treated me just the same as you did then. I’m tired of living in the dark. I want to live in the light with you.”

Brienne stared at him stunned. Throughout his explanation, she had been unable to form words. She made him happy? She thought she’d been an irritant when they had been together at the Red Keep, constantly pushing him and reminding him of his vows, threatening to leave to look for Sansa. Was that why he had been reluctant to let her go?

“May I kiss you?” 

She blinked. “What?”

“I want to kiss you. We’re out in the hallway. No one can accuse you of impropri—”

Brienne lunged for him, placing her lips on his. It took a moment to recover from his surprise, but then he leaned in and his hand cupped her cheek to hold her in place. She had her arms clutching his shoulders. He moaned and the desire once more inflamed Brienne. He tasted of wine and his skin smelled smoky as if he had been sitting by the fire. 

When he pulled away, she saw his eyes were dazed but he was grinning. “Is that a yes?”

Brienne leaned her forehead against his and said, “Yes, I will marry you.”

He closed the gap to seal the words with another kiss.


	3. Part III - Jaime-Brienne

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, here is the wedding and bedding!
> 
> Thank you, everyone who has read this short! Your comments and Kudos warm my heart. I apologize that it took so long to get to this point, but I hope you agree that the wait was worth it. =)

**Part III: Jaime**

Jaime waited at the bottom of the weirwood tree. It was an effort to keep from shuffling his feet with nervous energy but it didn’t keep him fiddling with the glove covering his golden hand. The wind blew and picked up the snow swirling around him and he gritted his teeth to keep from shivering. If he didn’t know better, he’d say they were deliberately leaving him out in the cold in the hopes he would be frozen by the time Brienne was ready. But his brother Tyrion shivered in solidarity with him. Surely Tyrion was still valuable alive.

Lady Sansa stood present on one side. Despite her Tully looks, she appeared fully comfortable in the chill air and did not shiver with the rest of them. She was cold and resplendent in a dark dress with silver trimmings in reference to her Stark side. Jaime felt like a pauper with his mismatched pieces of Northern armor that had been scraped together for the battle with the Long Night. Brienne wasn’t any other woman, but he felt like he was failing her by not being in his Lannister best. His Lannister best would’ve gotten him killed before he could even reach the border between the North and the Riverlands, so leaving it behind was best but he was going to feel diminished next to Brienne and her perfectly tailored armor that he’d gifted her.

_ What is even taking so long? Surely she’d wear her armor and not a dress, _ Jaime thought and he frowned at Sansa. Had the lady insisted her sworn knight be in a dress? Brienne had never felt comfortable in one, not even when they were tailored to fit her and he wanted her happy and at ease on their wedding day.

_ Was this enough witnesses for a wedding? _ Despite his efforts to keep his nerves from showing outwardly, he couldn’t keep the fretting out of his head. He had hoped that there were enough people who respected Brienne to show up in support of her, but perhaps they thought he was somehow forcing her hand and rebuffed the wedding in solidarity. He hoped he was the cause for the low number of guests instead of her.

At least the wildling, Tormund Giantsbane, wasn’t going to be there. He had been sorry to have been moping in his room when Brienne had finally put Tormund’s doubts to rest on whether the feeling was mutual. Lord Snow had finally cracked down on the wildling’s unwanted pursuit and now the gruff man limped around Winterfell like a wounded dog. In the days since Brienne and Jaime had finalized their desire for marriage, Tormund shot Jaime several scathing looks. Jaime couldn’t resist returning them with a look of smug self-assurance and reaching over to take Brienne’s hand.

Although they were to be wed in the way of the Old Gods, they had agreed to include the exchanging of the cloaks as was tradition in the south. Lady Sansa had insisted on waiting three days to fashion marriage cloaks for the both of them. Jaime wouldn’t have cared if Brienne had been cloaked with a dishrag, but he saw the wistful look on Brienne’s face and acquiesced. It had felt like the longest three days of his life, but in the end Sansa had presented him with two cloaks fashioned from an old red blanket. They lacked the Lannister sigil, but had the luscious red color with the gold trimmings. No doubt Sansa had to sacrifice something dear to get it just right, so he didn’t complain. He hadn’t seen Brienne’s wedding cloak, but he had every intention of taking it with him when he left. 

Tyrion suddenly nudged him. He glanced down to see Tyrion staring fervently towards the end of the godswood, which caused Jaime to snap his eyes up. He felt the tension leave his shoulders as Brienne came into view. It took an effort to keep his laughter from his face when he saw Podrick Payne was leading Brienne on his arm. Though it appeared that she was leading him more than her with the mismatch of their heights. She was wearing her blue armor which had been polished to a mirror shine with Oathkeeper at her side. There was a surreal softness to her hair as it waved in the gentle breeze. It seemed Sansa had loaned Brienne her soap to clean her hair of grime from her daily toil.

“Who comes before the Gods this day?” Tyrion called out in the Northern tradition.

“Brienne of House Tarth, a woman grown and trueborn, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms. She comes to beg the blessing of the Gods,” Podrick replied, shouting over the wind to make himself heard. Jaime felt pride blossoming in his chest for the young man who was on the verge of his own knighthood. 

“Who comes to claim her?” Tyrion called out.

“Jaime of House Lannister. A knight of the Seven Kingdoms and heir to Casterly Rock,” Jaime announced, keeping his eyes on Brienne. He had never felt so much finality from words.

“Brienne of Tarth, do you take this man?” Tyrion said the last sentence.

Brienne stepped forward and said, “I take this man, from this day to the end of my days.”

He held out his left hand and she took it as the words implied. Though she was steady, her fingers were chilled and when he smiled at her he only saw the vaguest twitch of her lips. Once their eyes met, she wouldn’t look away as though she was beseeching him to hold onto her. He squeezed the one hand he felt in his fingers. Together they descended to kneel in front of the weirwood and bowed their heads in prayer.

Jaime’s heart was pounding and he gritted his teeth against the pain and the cold. He felt the pressure on the stitches in his leg and prayed to the Old Gods that they wouldn’t burst apart. Brienne was the one who pulled him up when it was time to stop kneeling. 

Once they were back on their feet, they moved forward with the exchanging of the cloaks. Where he was shivering just a moment before, he could feel sweat beading on his forehead. This was the part he was most anxious about. Brienne bent and he reached up with the glove to fiddle with the ties. He pulled them apart from her cloak easily enough and held onto it with a death grip to keep it from dropping. He passed it to Tyrion who took it in one hand and held out the Lannister cloak in the other.

“With this cloak, I will bring you under my protection,” Jaime said. He held out the cloak awkwardly. Just as he was about to attempt pulling it over her head, Brienne grabbed one end and he was able to neatly pull the other over and square it on her shoulders. He fumbled with the tie for far too long and was becoming frustrated with it when Brienne put her hands on his and began tying it herself. 

Once she was done, he could see her eyes were wet with unshed tears and she gave him a small smile. He stared up at her incredulously as it sank in that they were now officially married. “With this kiss I pledge my love, and take you for my lady and wife,” He leaned up to place his lips on hers in a chaste kiss. She froze in surprise but gladly leaned into it.

“I suggest you continue this inside lest you freeze,” Tyrion said and they broke apart.

Jaime gave her an apologetic smirk. “I can’t carry you in.”

Brienne snorted. “I don’t need to be carried in.”

“It’s tradition.”

“I am a woman who is a knight,” she replied.

They all trodded back in to duck out of the cold. As they were stamping their feet on the inside, ridding themselves of the snow, Tyrion asked, “So what are you up to now?”

“Lady Sansa couldn’t spare the resources for a feast,” Jaime said by way of answering.  _ More like couldn’t find anyone to enjoy it. _ “I suggest we make our own feast in our room.” He looked over at Brienne with an impertinent smile which caused her to blush and he planted a kiss on her knuckles once more.

“I would sooner not be invited to that feast,” Tyrion replied. “I suppose I’ll see you in the morning. Come, Pod, we can still get drunk without them!”

*****

**_.The Chill of New Spring._**

*****

**Brienne**

*****

She allowed Jaime to lead her back to her own room. It was difficult enough trying to keep breathing and her head swam as she tried to make sense of everything. They were married. In a matter of moments, her life had shifted from being unmarried to married. She and Jaime were now considered one. For the rest of their lives. 

It would be ridiculous to say she didn’t give this thought, but she only wondered at Jaime’s loyalty. She never wondered at how it would change her life. Surely, Jaime would not try to make a lady of her who sat around and sewed? Where would they live? She had a feeling he was unlikely to want to stay in Winterfell for long once his sister was gone. Would they return to Tarth? She dearly wanted to show him her home. Would they live in Casterly Rock?

Would they have children? It was a grounding thought. Her breathing was back to even and she could feel her breath return. She remembered that Jaime had always regretted not being able to be a father to his other children. Whether he cared about carrying on the Lannister name, Tarth still needed an heir.

Her breath caught in her throat as she thought about her father. She had finally sent him a letter the day after they had agreed to marry. In some ways it struck her how bold her letter was:

_ I am marrying Ser Jaime Lannister. I love him and I trust him. You will understand one day. _

It had been very final. There had been no bantering, bartering, or entreaties. Her father would not and did not have a say. Would he understand? She would no doubt have some explaining to do once they reached Tarth, but the necessary words were not available on a slip of parchment fit for a raven to carry.

Jaime opened the door and she realized once she stepped in that he’d taken them to her room. It was larger and more comfortable than his. 

“Ah, just as I ordered,” he said. 

It took Brienne a moment to place what had changed, but then she saw a flask of wine sitting on the table with a pair of goblets next to them. The fire had been recently built and was burning merrily in the grate; the warmth washed over her and she felt like her senses were returning to her once more, no longer frozen by the shock of the moment or the chill air outside.

He stepped over and poured the two goblets of wine for the both of them. When he held out the goblet for her to take, she hesitated, concerned that it would slip straight through her fingers, but she willed her hand to close around it more firmly than is necessary. When she looked up into his eyes, the fire seemed to set his face aglow and he was smiling at her.

“To us,” Jaime said, holding out the goblet.

She clinked her goblet with his. “To us,” she replied softly. She merely sipped at her wine, but he threw his head back to take a huge draught. 

He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, there was a mellow quality to them that she didn’t think she’d ever seen in them and something else. “Did you want something to eat?”

“Umm...sure,” she replied. 

“I’ll be back in a moment. Stay right there,” he commanded and strode out the door.

She watched him leave, noticing the spring in his step and the way he rushed out the door. If she hadn’t just seen him smile at her, she’d wondered if he’d fled from the sight of her. To steady her nerves, she set the goblet back down. Their wedding had been held just before the midday meal, but she could see that the light of day was dimming in the window. 

Brienne started when the door opened and she allowed herself to relax as soon as she saw it was Jaime. He had grabbed a tray with two bowls and was balancing them in his arms. 

“I hope you like stew,” he commented dryly.

“I’m not so impartial to it.”

“It’s a shame we couldn’t have a proper wedding feast.”

“Who would share it with us?” She asked.

“Tyrion and Pod would,” he replied, but his smile was sad. “I’m sorry we couldn’t have a proper wedding with all of the usual trappings.”

“You know I don’t need that,” she scoffed, helping herself to her bowl.

“It’s not about need. You’re a Lady Lannister now. You should’ve been married like one,” he said, frustration and anger in his voice.

“I appreciate the thought, but circumstances being what they are, a feast just wasn’t possible.”

“We  _ will _ have that feast. I don’t know when or where, but we will,” Jaime said, determined.

She raised her eyebrows at him. “You never struck me as someone who would put so much weight on such a thing.”

“There are some traditions worth following,” he replied. He poured himself another goblet of wine and drank deeply from it once more.

She frowned. Jaime didn’t strike her as someone who clung to tradition, but then again, he did prefer traditional ideals regarding knights just as she did. He was a bit more bent about making history than she was, but perhaps that had more to do with turning around his reputation in the eyes of future generations than truly being a hero. He kept that close to his vest.

“What will we do now?” Brienne asked.

Jaime cocked his head, raised an eyebrow at her, and gave her a suggestive smile.

She blushed and hurriedly said, “I mean after today! Would we return to Casterly Rock?”

He was quiet as he regarded her with amusement. It made her self conscious and she had to tear her eyes away. Then he said, “I’ve been rather partial about visiting this place called Tarth. I caught a glimpse of it on my way to Dorne. It looks like a nice place.”

Brienne was quiet at this answer, but she looked back at up at him to see him smiling more genuinely at her. 

“You’d want to visit Tarth?”

“Of course! Don’t you want to see it again?”

“More than anything.” She felt the happiness deflate and she picked at the table. “I wonder what they’ll think of me.”

“It better be kind thoughts or I’ll have more than words for them,” Jaime growled.

“You can’t attack my people,” Brienne said, though there was no force to it. He could be cruel, but not when it concerned the unjust murder of innocents.

“You are their lady. They should respect you. Now that you’re a Lannister, they’ll know better than to disrespect you. My father made sure of that,” Jaime said with a bitter undertone and he turned away from her to stare anxiously at somewhere else in the room.

Brienne desperately searched for a topic to move to, but she couldn’t think of one and her tongue felt inexplicably stuck to the roof of her mouth. She swallowed. He’d already finished his bowl, but she was still scraping the last bits out of hers. Their personal feast was almost finished and soon it would be time for the bedding. 

Was Jaime interested in that tradition? She hoped so. Even as she thought about it, she felt her heartbeat speed up and her palms get sweaty with fear. This was the moment that she had been anticipating and dreading since they agreed to marry. She wanted to know what it was like to fuck. Septa Roelle had drummed it into her head that, if done right, then the marital duty was painful and unpleasant but that the woman had to endure it for the sake of the future generation.

Yet she had heard plenty of men and women rutting while walking through the tents of Renly’s camp and their noises had been anything but pained. Then again, many of the women were camp followers and her septa had told her that whores only pretend to act like it felt good. What was the truth? 

_ Does it matter? _ She scolded herself. Painful or not, she had endured plenty of hurts in her life that would leave a normal lady weeping. If they could endure fucking, then so would she. And yet her anxiety only climbed as she scraped the last bit of stew in her bowl.

She jumped when Jaime stood.

He raised his eyebrows at her. “Are you well?”

“Fine. I’m fine,” she said quickly.

Jaime stood there, looking at her and she bashfully turned away to eat the last of her stew. She nearly startled again when he reached over and placed a hand on hers. “It’s going to be okay. I won’t do anything that you don’t want to do.”

Brienne felt her mouth go dry. Then she managed to say, “You intend to bed me?”

He gave her a curious look. “Of course I do. Did you think otherwise?”

She couldn’t answer. Too many years of men telling her she was too ugly to marry let alone fuck kept her throat locked and her head down.

“Relax,” Jaime whispered into her ear. She bit her lip as he slipped his hand under her armor to start massaging the tension from her shoulders. “I’ll make it a night to remember.” 

Her breath became shaky as he continued to massage her shoulder. “You should drink more wine. You’ve barely had any.”

“Why?” She asked. 

“So that you’ll relax,” he replied with a chuckle in his voice. She drew in a deep breath and smelled the bittersweetness on his breath. “It’s why I drank so much this evening.”

“I thought you were trying to get drunk,” she said.  _ Trying to get so drunk you wouldn’t recognize who you were fucking, _ she thought, but she kept that to herself. He would never insult her so.

“No, I was trying to become mellow. It’s also why I insisted that we eat so that I wouldn’t be too drunk for...later festivities,” Jaime said in a silky voice. 

When Brienne felt a heat flushing through her body this time, it wasn’t out of embarrassment.

“That’s it. Why don’ t you help me with my armor?”

Brienne took a moment to steady her breathing but when she pushed her chair back to stand up it nearly fell over. Maybe it was good she had limited her drinking because she felt awkward and clumsy without it, she didn’t want to imagine how she’d be with it. He was thankfully fiddling with the ties to his armor and didn’t notice.

She approached and put a hand on his fingers to stop his fumbling. When their eyes met, she saw something in them that she had never seen before, and an earnestness that surprised her. The task eased her doubts as she went about removing his armor piece by piece. Once she’d pulled the breastplate over his head and set it on the chair, he bent over to start pulling off the greaves on his legs. He managed to make short work of them and they fell from him with a clunk. She picked them up and set them down with the rest of his armor.

Brienne turned around and saw him shift from side to side, but he stilled once he saw she was watching him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly and his voice seemed uncharacteristically small. He cleared his throat and repeated it, but more slowly and deeper, “Nothing.”

She quirked an eyebrow and struggled to keep a smile off of her face.  _ He’s nervous. How can he be nervous? _ However, he met her eyes and straightened up, so that she could start pulling on the strings on his shirt. Unlike the armor, she threw the shirt haphazardly to the floor.

Brienne looked at him, her hand hovering inches from his chest. 

“Go on,” he said.

The moment she touched his skin, she felt him shudder. It had been some years since their moment in the Harrenhal bathing room, but his muscles were just as defined and taut as they had been the last time. Though she noticed that the silver had started to show in his chest hair as well as on his head. His breathing changed as she traced his muscles; she glanced up to see his eyes were closed and his mouth open in pleasure. 

His eyes flickered open and he appeared dazed. “Are you ready to move on?” He asked.

Brienne swallowed and nodded, stepping back to stand straight. She was surprised when he reached for the ties on his trousers to pull them open.

“Don’t you want me undressed?” She asked. Was she truly that hideous that he refused to undress her? She licked her lips and started to feel desperation.

He looked up at her in surprise. “I thought you’d prefer I be naked first.”

She stared but then reached up to start undoing her armor. Jaime closed the gap and placed a hand on her fingers. “Don’t be so hasty. I want to undress you.”

Brienne stopped and stood with her hands at her side again and watched Jaime reach over to the ties. She’d allow him to work at it for a time, but if he wasn’t moving fast enough she’d aid him. However, she grew fascinated as his fumbling fingers seemed to become so precise and soon, her pauldrons and greaves were loosening. Once he’d collected them and placed them carefully, he began running his hand over the free area of her arm. There was still a shirt separating her skin from his, but he stepped in closer and began placing chaste kisses all along her neckline and on her throat. 

Her eyes shot open. Was she supposed to have done that to him? Her face burned once more but in failure rather than embarrassment.

“Jaime…” Brienne tried to say, but it barely came out in a whisper. She wasn’t sure if it was protestation or encouragement, but she wanted to right her wrong.

“Yes?” He asked once he was done.

“I-I didn’t kiss you.”

He smirked at her. “You didn’t need to.”

“B-but I want to.” She hated how her voice quavered with emotion.

“Okay,” he said. “Can I take off your breastplate first at least?”

“Yes.”

He worked on her breastplate for a few moments. Brienne wondered if he was deliberately drawing his actions out but put it down to being awkward with his left hand. She couldn’t resist helping him when he finally started to lift her breastplate over her head and soon everything was piled onto her chair. 

Brienne approached him cautiously and reached out a hand to his shoulder, again, and ran along it. At first, she kept her eyes to the line of his neck, but she kept glancing at his lips. Finally, she couldn’t resist and crushed her lips against his. The tension eased from her shoulders as she felt him respond. His tongue prodded her lips. She opened them and moaned as he deepened the kiss. It baffled her how much feeling could be generated from something as simple as kissing. When she pulled away, he moaned and was panting. 

His eyes peered at her half-lidded and then he reached over and pulled at her own shirt. Brienne hurriedly ripped it off and tossed it, uncaring of where it landed. There was still a breast band covering her breasts, but she immediately moved in closer to continue the kiss, hoping her quick speed wouldn’t give Jaime time to view her ungainly body and her pitiful breasts. She wrapped her arms around him, but then jumped back with a hiss as something hard and cold brushed against her hip.

“Shit! Sorry,” Jaime mumbled. Instead of looking at her, he was looking down at the gold hand strapped to his arm. “Would you like me to take it off?” Gone was his confidence. He seemed almost as bashful as her.

“You do know I don’t think less of you without your hand?” 

“I know,” he said, yet he continued to avoid her eyes.

Slowly, Brienne reached down and took the gold hand in hers. She carefully undid the straps and slid it off. She set the piece down only to keep it from clunking noisily to the ground. His stump had long healed over, but she could see callouses and cold blisters had built up along the edge where the gold hand had met the skin. It looked painful and the hand was heavy enough that Brienne figured it had to be uncomfortable, but then perhaps he kept it in part to keep the muscles in his right arm from atrophying. 

She slowly ran her finger along the smooth end, raised it up and kissed the stump. When she dropped it, she looked at Jaime only to flush at the way his eyes roamed her body. Suddenly she became the self-conscious one and she raised her arms up to cover her breasts.

“No,” Jaime said in a way that sounded like a whine and a moan at the same time. “Let me see them.”

Slowly, she allowed her arms to drop and he reached around to undo the breastband. It fell away and she was naked from the waist up. It took a conscious effort not to cover her front again. Jaime reached over to take one of her breasts in his hand. It was a curious sensation to feel the rough calluses on his hand against the only part of her that was soft and plying. He seemed to be considering her breasts as he softly kneaded them, then he dropped his hand to hers and pulled her to the bed.

“This will be easier if you’re sitting down,” he said. 

Brienne slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, following him expectantly. He slowly knelt before her, grimacing slightly.

“Is your leg paining you?”

“It’s fine,” he replied. “The stitches are holding.”

She frowned at him.

“Don’t fret! They’ll hold for this. I doubt we’ll get that strenuous tonight,” he said with a crooked smile.

Brienne shivered and bit her lip at the thoughts that flooded her mind. They instantly evaporated as Jaime cupped her breast again and then began suckling the other. Her breath came in little panting gasps at the sensations that crawled through her body. She only knew breasts as a means of suckling babes; how was it possible to receive such pleasure from attention to her breasts? 

She suddenly realized she was pitifully whimpering and abruptly bit down on her lip to stop herself. Jaime immediately stopped with the attention to look up at her in confusion. “Don’t stop. I enjoy hearing your pleasure.”

“I sound ridiculous.”

Jaime chuckled. “No, you don’t. I consider it a badge of honor to bring you to such pleasure.”

Her face grew heated at the implication. There was a fiery look in his eyes that she had never seen, but most prominent was his usual arrogant smirk. He captured her lips again until they were both moaning, then he peppered kisses on her cheek and down her throat, stopping to nip at various places that tingled with a mixture of pleasure and pain.

When he pulled back, he was grimacing and he put a hand on his bed to leverage himself up.

“What’s wrong?”

“My knees. There,” he said, having finally climbed to his feet.

It was difficult now to miss the prominent bulge at the front of his trousers. Jaime followed her line of sight. He had undone the strings to his trousers earlier, but they remained on his hips. He put his hands on his trousers once more, but Brienne asked, “May I?”

Jaime stepped closer to her. She regarded his hidden cock with hesitation, but then tentatively reached to run a finger along the bulge. His reaction was immediate: he hissed, shivered, and shifted on his feet. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were closed with his head thrown back in pleasure.

Brienne raised her eyebrows. Even she hadn’t had that strong of a reaction to what he’d done to her so far. She ran her fingers over it again, poking it with interest, and she cocked her head as it seemed to shift even without seemingly his direct control. He simultaneously moaned and laughed. 

“Find cocks interesting, do you?” 

“It’s like a snake. I always wondered how they worked.”

“Cocks damn near have minds of their own. They can stand at attention as they please,” he replied. 

“You don’t control it then?”

“No. It can be...inconvenient at times. I distinctly recall my cock standing at attention when I saw you naked in the baths at Harrenhal. That was...before everything. I thought I was just missing…I think my cock knew even before me who it really wanted,” he replied softly. 

Brienne stared up warily into his eyes looking for the lie but found none. He was being sincere. If he had decided to take her then, would she have had the willpower to fight him off? They certainly hadn’t been on the friendliest of terms at that moment—at least not until after he had spilled his secret regarding the Mad King—but it had been difficult to keep her eyes from straying to the perfectly sculpted god when he’d stood unashamedly naked in front of her. Even grimy, his hair darkened from a year’s worth of grit and dirt, his face pinched from the pain, his skin painfully stretched across his ribs, he still somehow cut a dashing figure.

She finally shook her head of the memories and tentatively opened his trousers, grasped his cock, and pulled it out into the open. Jaime continued to groan and she saw the tip was beaded with unspilt seed. She grasped the hilt and ran her hand up it, palming the bead off and then Jaime abruptly stepped out of her reach.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“I’d prefer to spill inside you,” he replied with some urgency. He stepped out of his trousers and approached her. 

“May I?” He asked, putting a pair of fingers into the waistband of her trousers to get across his meaning.

She nodded numbly and stood. He made equally short work of her trousers as his own. They both stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Her body tingled under his heated gaze. All that stood between her and her own nakedness was a scrap of cloth that served as her underclothes. He looked at her for permission once more and she nodded. He pulled it down until the cloth fell away on its own and she stepped out of it.

An unreal feeling fell upon her as she stood naked as her nameday with her new husband, Jaime Lannister, about to be deflowered. She never thought this day would come. Even now, she was certain she was about to wake up and realize it had all been just a dream. Not even her wildest fantasies had ever quite brought this amount of pleasure to her.

After a moment of taking her all in, Jaime walked over to the bed and pulled the covers back. She took the cue and climbed in, the feeling of the bedclothes against her naked skin foreign to her.

“Just lay back and relax,” Jaime said to her in what she thought was meant to be a soothing matter, but there was no mistaking the tension in his voice. There was a look in his eyes that she had been unable to place before but now understood to be desire. It still amazed her that anyone, let alone someone as beautiful as him, could possibly desire her.

Brienne let out a shuddering breath as she laid back on the bed, feeling stiff and awkward. Jaime climbed atop her and towered over her with a pleased smile. 

“I have you where I want you now,” he said in such a deep voice that it sounded like the growl of a lion. He began kissing her mouth, but his manner had taken on a frantic pace. He tugged at her ears with his teeth and where he planted more kisses, his beard scraped across her skin. Now that she was on the bed, he took the opportunity to revisit all of the places he had before, which left her gasping and moaning. She was brought out of the pleasurable haze he’d set in her when he abruptly stopped. She glanced down to see him hungrily eying her slit. 

“Are you ready?” He asked. “We can take this at our own pace. It’s up to you.” 

“Please,” she said breathlessly. “Please. I want this. I want to know.”

“Then just relax. There may be pain but you’ve suffered worst. I will minimize it as much as I can.”

“Seven Hells, Jaime, I’m not a blushing maid. I can take a little pain,” she snapped impatiently. If all of the dainty ladies in the world and throughout history had endured this, then she would as well. 

He chuckled. “Never thought I would hear such profanities from you. I wonder what other ones I can make you say.”

They both stared in challenge at one another. He made the first move, taking her knees and spreading them apart to give him access. She felt her skin jolt as his fingers brushed the skin of her lower lips and her eyes widened as she distinctly felt him pulling her slit apart. Something suddenly filled it and she gasped at the sensation of enveloping and fullness. She glanced down to see Jaime was leaning over the thatch of blonde hair at her gap and she realized that he was pushing his fingers inside of her. 

She grimaced and moaned in pleasure as he continued to work, running his finger along the inside of her. He abruptly added another finger and she shuddered as it added to the pleasure that continued to shiver through her body. She worked her hips to meet his fingers and felt herself blush when she realized the wanton way she was grinding against the bed. The stray moment of embarrassment was fleeting once she saw the raw desire on his face as he withdrew his fingers.

“Brienne,” he began and shook his head as though he were trying to clear his senses. “I’m not sure I can last much longer.”

Her response was to spread her legs wider. He positioned himself at her entrance and looked at her again. She nodded and watched him. 

The sensation of being filled surprised her. It was unlike anything she had felt before. There was a slight pain, but more like the deep ache of overused muscles. She pitched and shifted, drawing him in and trying to make herself more comfortable. Jaime stretched out atop and buried his face into her neck. 

“You feel so good,” he moaned as he slipped his arms underneath her and squeezed her closer. He breathed harshly against her neck and groaned as she continued to move beneath him. “Are you well?” When he looked up at her, he seemed dazed and overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Yes,” she replied and wrapped her own arms to bring him closer if it was at all possible. After a time, she finally felt him relax in her arms. He began thrusting and she marveled at the dual sensation of the emptiness of his withdrawal and the pleasure that his thrusting instilled. She began meeting his thrusts and moaned deeply into his shoulder. 

She heard him muttering and it took a moment to realize he was chanting her name.

“Brienne. Fuck, Brienne. You feel so good. I can’t stop.”

She had long ceased thinking and only pleasure seemed to fill the corners of her mind. Impulsively, she bit into his shoulder and then quite suddenly he tensed under her arms and groaned. 

“Ah, Gods, Jaime,” she cried back as she felt his release and clung to him, concerned she would drown in her pleasure otherwise. Her vision darkened and an otherworldly relief washed over her like a wave crashing into shore. 

He slumped against her. The effort had been so intense and exhaustive that she allowed herself to bonelessly sink back into the bed as she tried to catch her breath. Jaime moved and made to roll off of her, but she wrapped her arms tighter around him.

“You’re not leaving, are you?”

“No,” he mumbled into her neck. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” He kissed and nuzzled her, causing her eyes to flutter once more with pleasure. “Was it everything you imagined?”

“Better,” Brienne whispered back. She whined as he shifted and his cock left her.

“Time enough for more of that, my lady,” he said with a chuckle. He rolled off of her and pulled her closer, reaching down with his hand to pull the covers up over them. 

Brienne smiled. For so long she had felt unwanted and unloved. Just days before, it had been pure fantasy to think anyone could love her and take her maidenhood with pleasure over pain. The doubts that Septa Roelle had planted into her mind as a young girl finally tore loose from their roots and floated away, to be forgotten in the tides of her happiness.

For so long she had been known as Brienne the Maid of Tarth, an identity that emphasized her loneliness and undesirability. Yet within the span of a day, she had been made Lady Brienne Lannister and the maidenhood that had long defined her was cast away. She had been resigned to being a maid for life or married in a last bid for an heir to a man who wanted her only for her lands and nothing else. That she would find a man who loved and took pleasure from her as much as she did from him still felt like a dream. This was a dream that she wouldn’t have to wake from.

  
  


**The End**


End file.
